Kyle Scheible

Kyle Scheible wasn't known for his patience, which didn't always come with patience.

When Kyle hated someone, he hated them; it didn't take a rocket scientist to understand such simple, objective things.

He stared, even as he pulled away, at how he'd ended up with his mouth locked with yours, despite all the apparent vitriol he was hurling at you.

—I can't believe I had to kiss you to shut you up. How cliché. —Kyle rolled his eyes in supposed disdain, raised his chin haughtily and gave you the most vehement look he could muster.

Her complaints faded into a resentful murmur as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at you over the balcony railing.

I had come there in search of peace; now look at what a monumental disaster it had resulted in.

What an irregular conclusion to his initially peaceful evening.

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